Who is Driving?
by Speed dial 3
Summary: Set after the s2 finale. Girl comes up with trufax brilliant plan, gtfos to Sherwood Forest, and, you know, stuff. Srsly.


Chapter One

"What on earth are you talking about, Father?" asked Helen. She hadn't really bothered listening the first time – she generally didn't bother listening to other people unless they were answering a question she'd asked, and even then she tended to only hear what she wanted to. "Why would I want to go all the way up north?" Frowning into the polished-silver mirror, she curled a lock of hair around a finger and held it.

"Helen. Try to listen." Sir Geoffrey Dean stopped pacing behind her, and reached over her shoulder to take the mirror out of her hand. "You are engaged to Lord Callum Keith of Rennie, and you must go north because that is where he lives. Do you understand?"

"I don't know why you act like I wouldn't understand," she complained. "But I don't want to get married." She snatched the mirror back and held up a pair of amber earrings. "Do these make me look sallow? I like them."

"You have been engaged for a year!" Sir Geoffrey said, slapping the mirror down onto the table Helen used for her jewelry. "I have told you dozens of times. Your wedding dress was fitted a month ago."

"Well, I'm sorry you don't bother to make sure people are listening to you when you talk." The amber earrings really didn't look right. "But I don't want to get married."

It turned out that that didn't matter. The next day, the carriage was made ready: the outside was rough and painted black in order to dissuade anyone from thinking there was anything valuable inside, but the interior was swathed in silks. Helen held the box with her wedding jewels on her lap, "because I just want to make sure they're there," as she told her father. This was a lie. Under the seat was a set of clothes belonging to one of the Morgan Hall menservants: the plan, which Helen was proud of, was for her to wait until the carriage was in the middle of a forest, change into the clothes, take the jewels, and run. Then she would make her way to the nearest town, sell some of the jewels, and … she wasn't really sure what happened next, or how she'd find the town, but it was a good plan.

It wasn't, really.

Despite that, when the carriage was about midway through Sherwood Forest, Helen slipped out the door with the jewels under her arm. The guards were busy arguing at the front, so they weren't playing attention when she hit the ground, stumbling a little as she tripped over her feet. The coach trundled on just as it had when she had been inside, and she darted into the forest to hide behind a tree until the road was empty again, pushed her hair under the manservant's hat, then started down it in the same direction that the carriage had traveled.

So this was freedom! It was quieter than Helen had expected. Duller. Sometimes it seemed like her life was always either engrossing and interesting, moving along without her, or completely and utterly boring. Maybe everyone's was. At any rate, she walked along down the road – in too large boots – to the chirping of bird and the rustling of trees. Peaceful. Bland. It was a relief when the outlaws strolled out of the woods and stood in front of her.

There were three of them: the most noticeable one looked about six and a half feet tall and was holding a quarterstaff in a semi-threatening manner, but the other two were of a normal size and had swords.

"What've you got in that box, there, kid?" asked the darker-haired of the smaller men.

"She doesn't have anything, Allan," said the big man. "Just let it go."

"I told you we weren't going to get anything today," said the man who wasn't Allan. "Robin said we weren't to bother. I told you!" He sheathed his sword, then crossed his arms and sighed heavily. "I told you."

"But, look, that's a nice box, that is – might be something in it." Allan was clearly not as ready to give up as the other two. "She's not that poor, look at her."

"I am right here!" said Helen. They were apparently not going to rob her, so there didn't seem to be any risk to her person. "And I'm not a girl, why would you say I'm a girl?" The three men just looked at her. She coughed, and said again, her voice lower, "I'm not a girl."

"This is … this is just lovely," said not-Allan the smaller. "We went out on our own, and then now we have to deal with a mad girl. Perfect."

"I'm not mad, and I'm not a girl!" Helen hugged the jewelry box closer as Allan walked over and took off her cap, long fawn-colored hair tumbling down past her shoulders. "All right, I have a lot of hair. I like hair. That doesn't make me a girl."

"Come on," said the big man. "Let's go back to the camp."

"Well, maybe she needs rescuing or something," said Allan. "You need rescuing? It's a slow day."

Helen thought about it for a minute. "You rescue people?" she asked. "Aren't you outlaws?"

"We," said Allan, raising his eyebrows, "are with Robin Hood. Yeah, really." He waited for some kind of a response. "You know, Robin Hood."

"And that would be …?"

"Oh, come on!" It seemed that it was unheard of not to know who this was. "Robin Hood! He's always helping the poor, that sort of thing."

"Never heard of him." This caused the three men to all raise their eyebrows at her. "I'm not from around here. I'm from Essex." They nodded knowingly. "And he rescues people?"

"Oh, yeah," said Allan. "We're always helping people out. People the Sheriff's leaning on, generally."

"So," Helen said slowly. These people could definitely help her out – but she didn't know this Sheriff. She'd have to make her story sound worse than just being told to get married, or else they might not bother. She needed them to hide her, get her away somewhere. "I think … I think I do need to be rescued."


End file.
